Description
Ripe with literary and current-culture allusions, this book combines elements of world history, science fiction, political science, and satire. It's at once a brutally-serious and bitingly-humorous novel that, as one early reviewer noted: "Demands a lot from the reader, is a wonderfully-wild ride, and is well worth the time and energy invested."

Summary
In a proximate alternate parallel universe representing 'the worst of all possible worlds' (apology to Voltaire), Minnesota--along with the rest of the increasingly intolerant and economically-stratified United States--inexorably proceeds toward anti-Islamic totalitarianism and economic class warfare under the driving forces of ubiquitous body-linked information technology, affordable DNA re-sequencing, unparalleled custom chemistry, a cost-effective single political party, and the manufacture of synthetic criminal evidence.

Excerpt
Jake's Diner
Saturday, July 13, 2024
Even though it was only 8:15, the intense Minnesota morning sun dumped waves of shimmering heat upon the thirsty wilted corn...unquenched by expensive center-pivot irrigation systems. A loosely-organized row of aggressive-looking pickup trucks--drearily-colored, indeterminate in age, manfully backed into position, and universally-equipped with locking tool boxes giving purpose to otherwise empty beds--had formed a defensive line on the torrid gravel in front of Jake's.
By day a respectable diner and by night a bar that promised totally exotic dancing--whatever that meant, since no local dared investigate--Jake's was the social epicenter of Blue Earth...an ever-diminishing farming town that might as well have been located in Iowa for all the difference the unrelentingly-flat, hot, and wind-ravaged prairie landscape made.
Although it had been decades since smoking had been banned in public places--with the exception of those wastefully-expensive new mobile home parks--the lingering smell of tobacco still clung to the tables, chairs, and walls…adding to Jake's unfinished-plywood, grease-encrusted character. With its luridly-pink Masonite siding, hand lettered signage, mysterious 'adults-only' back room behind a beaded curtain, long-abandoned gas pumps, and a short-order menu scribbled on a chalkboard, Jake's had a Lake Wobegon vibe that could only be called Fly-over Gothic.
James Abbott Whistler, himself, couldn't have asked for a more rustic cast of characters to paint. Grizzled, weather-worn men sat hunched around a long row of four-place tables pulled together on the west side of the main dining area to form the Men's Lodge.
Properly-segregated on the opposite side of the room, plain-looking and muscular Minnesota women--worn dour by the rigors of moral living--sat primly-upright around a second row of tables that constituted the Women's Lodge.
In the middle of the room, three minor Chinese government officials--smartly-dressed in khaki pants, Polo shirts, and completely-ignored--drank tea and conducted their own conversation in an incomprehensible language. They were, after all, the owners of the crops these farmers were attempting--against increasingly-dismal odds--to grow.
The women talked about people, mostly. They talked about babies born, children half-grown, young men off to service, young women awaiting their return, and the inevitable moral challenges that lurked within the time between...always with a wary eye toward their own husbands when the excitingly-lurid details of illicit affairs were discussed. Young women from other places, of course, served in the military. But in this neck-of-the-wood, that wasn't considered proper.
The women also talked about church and The Reverend Apostolic Rivers' recent sermons. They talked about how thankful they were The Party advocated and enforced the family values they cherished. And if one of them had eyes for another woman at the table or someone's husband across the way, she was careful not to let it show. Self-denial was the moral way.
Sitting in the shadow of the Alpha Male, the men talked about things, mostly...in the quiet, monosyllabic, primally-grunting way of still water running deeply and Neanderthals hunting. If the subordinates had opinions contrary to the Alpha's, they were reluctant to voice them. The Alpha loudly held court on time-honored topics…always bolstering orthodoxy by way of stories featuring remarkable people he personally knew.
The range of the Alpha's unchallenged proxy knowledge had virtually no limits. From taxes to weather, from farming to manufacturing, from diesel engine repair to Party interrogation methods...the Alpha inevitably knew someone who absolutely and completely knew all there was to know about whatever the group was talking about.
When it came to politics, both Lodges agreed on at least one thing. The New Era--the Constitutional Amendment powerful Ultra-PACs and Party leaders had managed to get placed on the 2024 ballot in every state--would provide exactly the economic stimulus and moral purgative the United States--Minnesota chief among them--required to promote good Christian living in the middle of the twenty-first century.
If the French could possibly have been clever enough to create a time machine allowing Alexis de Tocqueville to assume the fourth seat at Jake's 'Chinese table', the historian might have wondered at the tendency of such seemingly-wholesome people to embrace moral totalitarianism as the litmus-test of rugged individualism. To reconcile this apparent contradiction, he'd need to understand the divisive implications of the conceptually-impossible conjunction separating 'liberty' from 'justice for all' in the Pledge of Allegiance...a recitation The Party intended to soon replace with more appropriate, less liberal verbiage. Of course, everyone at Jake's, except the Chinese, knew no obscenely-liberal Euro-weenie person could ever have been capable of such an invention or understanding.
The author of a Class-1 contraband book once asked “What's the matter with Kansas?” The good people at Jake's were grateful the brown-shirted Party Scouts and black-clad Morality Patrollers didn't bother asking what was wrong with a person who could pose such a question. They simply and cost-effectively put him or her out of circulation with a stout piece of American hardwood...the more permanently, the better. It was, therefore, not unusual to see pumpkin-headed former liberals staggering brokenly around town--disgracing both God and Christian community--suffering for all to see until a magnificently-vengeful Jesus banished them to hell forever.

Table of Contents
This book is written in a diary format without chapters.
Author's Foreword
Dedication
Text
Appendix
Image Attributions